Disclaimer: Firefly and these characters are the rightful property of Joss Whedon. I wish they would rise again.

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IF THE COAT FITS

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It was Jayne that found her. Knew I hired him for somethin'. His trackin' skills are like no-one else's. Not sure now that I don't wish he weren't so gorram good.

Hardly recognized her at first. All bloodied and beaten. Felt sick to my stomach. What sort of qingwa cao di liumang could do that to a woman?

We carried her back to the ship, me an' Jayne. She di'n't hardly weigh anythin' at all. Always thought she'd be heavier. That the force of her personality would've given her more heft. But she was so light. Holdin' her – at last – was like holdin' a dream.

Simon cleaned her up some so that she was at least recognizable. I wanted to kiss her, but her lips were so badly bruised and swollen, I feared hurtin' her. Because I still wa'n't ready to accept she was gone.

We burnt her body on a pyre there on Three Hills. Gathered up what little there was of dried twigs and branches lyin' around and burnt her, wrapped in my old brown coat. That was River's doin'. She was screamin' and hollerin' “That's hers! Give it back!” fit to wake the dead. 'Cept it didn't. Anyhow, it felt right somehow. Givin' her the warmth in death that I should have given her in life.

When the embers cooled, I scooped them with my hands into a battered old tin I'd brought from the mess. Now it sits in her shuttle, which is still jus' the same as the day she left it. I know she was always threatenin' to leave but in my heart I hold fast to the memory of her sippin' Kaylee's moonshine an' sayin' “Why would I ever want to leave Serenity?”

Sometime I go there to sit. Only now, in my head, I always ask permission first. An' I pretend to myself that she welcomes me with a kiss. Just a peck on the cheek. 'Cos I don't deserve no more from her.

The shuttle still smells of her. Sometimes I pick up her pillows and breathe her in. But not often. Because the pain it gives me is worse than anythin' Niska could devise.

Spent a long time ponderin' on the why of it. 'Cos it di'n't make no sense at all. Her a Registered Companion, a fine lady, in such a place. She was always angry with me for takin' her out to the Rim where rich and hygienic clients were few an' far between. What in the nine hells had she been doin'?

Then little snippets of information started dribblin' in. I sent a wave to the House Madrassa on Sihnon. Figured they'd be expectin' her back some day and that they should know she wou'n't be comin'. Sent Monty a wave one night when Zoe thought getting' me drunk might ease my grief some.

First I got a wave from The Guild sendin' their condolences. Sayin' what a fine Companion she'd been and how they'd regretted her decision to leave for “personal reasons.”

Then an encrypted wave from Pianhu, one of her friends from the House arrived. Askin' me for assurances that she ha'n't killed herself. Because this friend had always feared she might, after what happened to Doran. His name started hauntin' me.

To my shame, I couldn't help but go through her belongings. I was eaten up with jealousy. What was I lookin' for? Don't know my own self. Letters, maybe. Pictures. What I found was a curious, long box containing a syringe. I put it a pocket and kept it there for several days before takin' it to Simon.

He told me it was a fast-acting poison.

What had Inara been keepin' poison for? Herself? Me? I started havin' all these wild thoughts about her bein' an Alliance spy, waitin' for a moment to kill me an' Jayne an' Zoe so she could turn River and Simon over to the feds.

Then I got a mighty strange wave from Monty. Sayin' how Inara was an exceptional woman, brave an' selfless. How it was an honour to have known her. But he di'n't never even meet her. Far as I knew.

Finally I could bear it no more. Got Wash to set a course for Sihnon. Told Simon to spend every last penny we had on bookin' Pianhu for the night. Because I had to know.

He looked mighty convincin' enterin' House Madrassa. All fancified and rich-lookin'. A typical Companion's client. 'Course he nearly gave the game away by his look of near terror.

I waited up the street, pacin' around like a tiger in a cage. Would have welcomed an honest brawl to relieve the tension, but Sihnon ain't that kind of place.

When Simon came out, his face was grim. He wou'n't say nothin' till we were back on Serenity.

Then it all poured out. About a year before I ever met her, Inara had fallen in love with one of her clients. Name of Doran. Then he'd been exposed as a browncoat spy, still fightin' for the Independents' cause long after the war was over. He been tortured and executed. Inara herself had been taken in for questionin', but later freed. She left Sihnon looking to continue Doran's fight, fill the hole his death had left. She'd run into Monty who'd put her in touch with other browncoats.

She had the perfect cover. A respectable Companion could get into any society. Once in, she'd be takin' notes, gatherin' information and passin' it back to her handlers. Rentin' a shuttle from me gave her spyin' even greater range.

But she must have got complacent, or someone betrayed her. I pray to God – yeah, been doin' a lot of that lately, for all the good it does me – that it wa'n't somethin' I did. Probably never know now.

Anyhow they lured her to a meet on Three Hills and killed her. Only according to Simon they broke all her fingers and toes, beat her and raped her first.

Oh, Inara! All that time together fightin' an' bickerin'. Me thinkin' you was so different from me. All that time when I should've jus' kissed you.

I really am all kinds of stupid.